Nen Troubles
by onskidrow
Summary: A crestfallen Hisoka approaches Gon and Killua. His nen was strung up by an enemy and now he needs a nen remover to clear it up. Gon and Killua help him with the enticement of money, but soon discover the nen remover's ability in the wrong hands...


**Title:** A Million Miles

**Author: **Arbitrary

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Hunter x Hunter, why am I writing _fan_fiction, keyword here being _fan_? Obviously I'd be writing something more along the lines of official fiction. HxH belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi. Happy now, dear lawyers? (No wait, they're still after me for something else, something much more serious…:)

**Author's Note:** The beginning is a bit too angsty and weird. It has little relation to the rest of the story…I just wrote it for the sake of needing something more colorful to start the story out. As usual, my stories start with no plan for a plot. Just a story put together at the last minute that I hope won't possess too many glaring logical glitches. If all goes good, this thing just might continue….

**Arrgh. Someone (namely KR.Kaden)** **has just copied this fic and claimed it as their own. Copied url here: www . fanfiction . net /s/3401280/1/ If people could report the thief, I'd be grateful.  
**

**Summary: **A desperate Hisoka, crestfallen from a lost battle, approaches Gon and Killua, asking them for a favor. Hisoka's nen was strung up by a random enemy and now he needs a nen remover to remove the foreign nen. Gon and Killua help him with the enticement of money, but soon discover that the nen remover's ability is no longer in the right person's hands…

* * *

A million miles. To him, the Yorkshin incident had left in his heart a crater a million miles wide. It surprised him that he was still alive, when others were dead. Empty. Gone. He no longer wanted to think about things. No longer cared. Old things rarely lingered on his mind, just like how he threw away valuables that no longer held appeal. 

Yet, admittedly, one thing had suprised him. He could not see why Pakunoda had sacrificed for him--after all, he was nothing more than a slab of rock, a cold, meaningless chip of a stone. Too late to ask, though. Now all that was left was to get rid of the nuisance called Hisoka, go steal some more shiny things, and—and he wasn't sure what to do next. He would sleep, eat, go on with the listless cycle called life.

There was an ample-sized bookstore nearby, enough to suit his literary needs. That was mostly where he'd been spending his time recently, since there were usually no dangerous nen users prowling the area waiting to pick a fight with him. He wasn't in the mood for a fight. Appeal was no longer determined by how well a person could conjure a nen attack, or how quickly the person tore away another's head and watered the streets with blood. Fighting had become empty when there was no one caring to back him up.

The bestsellers were first to fill up his vision. They hit the points of life so different from his own, so novel and new that they lured in him like mice to cheese. Romance? Science fiction? Anything far from reality would suit him. He perused the bestsellers, attempting to decide a good one to hijack.

A mixture of cacophonous sounds filled his ear. A dark-haired, porcupine-headed kid and a white-haired boy framed the doorway. Each held a lopsided ice cream cone, resulted from their head-on crash moments earlier. He recognized them instantly. They were the two brats from Yorkshin, the two brats that Nobunaga had suggested to join the Ryodan, the two brats that had tailed the Ryodan twice and escaped alive. Reminders of Yorkshin were definitely not appreciated; especially not while he was enjoying himself. Just by appearing in the bookstore, the two monster brats had handed him a package of burdens.

He knew that avoiding them was not all that hard in the spacious bookstore. On the other hand though, why was he succumbing to a bunch of kids and moving out of _their_ way? He sighed resignedly. The two monster brats came in arguing, all the while moving closer to him. It felt as if they were purposely closing in on him as their target, like two leopards diving for their prey. Not that it was accurate to call him "prey," for he far more fitted the definition of "predator."

"No, Gon! Don't!" Monster brat #1 chided monster brat #2.

Porcupine-head adamantly refused to listen, retorting, "If we don't go now, it'll be too late!"

Brat #1 was equally adamant, "Well if we do go, at least do it smartly." Brat #1 then proceeded to latch onto Brat #2 and drag Brat #2 from the store. Kuroro secretly deemed the light-haired boy as a laudable of a Nobel Peace Prize. It was nice to know that there was at least one person in the bookstore who cared for his dignity and had stepped out to save it.

* * *

Killua wanted to yell, to reprimand Gon about the earlier incident in the bookstore. Had Gon not seen that the enemy was only a few feet behind them? How naïve could Gon get? If Gon had been any jumpier, had moved a mere two feet backwards, they would be causing a big commotion that neither of them was prepared for. He sighed. How could Gon be this inept? 

"Didn't you see him?" Killua questioned.

"See who?" Killua visibly winced. Gon still hadn't seen? Gods, did the naïve reinforcement user need an appointment with the optometrist?

"The guy right behind you! That guy…I can't believe you wouldn't notice him!"

Gon didn't look surprised. "Oh…him. Yeah, I saw him. But I thought we were going to ask him something. What's there to be so nervous about?"

Killua rolled his eyes. Of course, he should've known that all reinforcement users would simply run up to their target and declare all out war. He certainly should not have expected any pelts of strategy to begin until the battle was already in mid-air.

"Yeah, yeah, we _were_ going to ask him something. But don't you think it'd be better to be a bit more discreet? It was pretty obvious he was _not _enjoying our company. Maybe it'd be easier if we disguised ourselves…."

"We don't have time though! We promised Hisoka to—"

"Well, there's no point in dying for Hisoka either! We have to trick Kuroro into doing it. Otherwise, we'll be dead—you know we're not going to fare well in a fight against him."

"But we ought to try! By a stroke of luck, it might turn into an advantage for us!"

"A stroke of luck? You kidding? Luck shouldn't be a deciding factor in the game of life! The danger of serious injury from fighting ranks somewhere at 85, while the danger of simply sneaking a trick is probably only 60."

"That's still pretty high, Killua. And we don't have a plan for the latter one."

"Well you don't, but I do. Like I said earlier, we could disguise ourselves."

Gon was, for the most part, accepting of their new plan. Gon would disguise himself as the nen remover, and Killua would dress up as Hisoka. The disguises elicited a few chuckles from Killua. Himself as Hisoka? Yes, he certainly would look funny in that clown's suit. No, he didn't know what the clown would think when he found out about their plan. Probably laugh gleefully and plaster his face with that eerie grin.

The prelude of their awkward position had occurred about ten days ago, when Hisoka had dropped by their residence. Killua had always been hostile to visitors, and had forced Hisoka to stand at the door, despite the fact that it was pouring rather brutally outside. Hisoka had asked for a favor—that the two kids assist him in finding a nen remover who was willing to remove someone's nen that had been imposed on Hisoka. The minute Killua heard the word "favor", he was already preparing himself for refusal. Who in their right mind, after all, wanted to do something for a crazy, psychomaniac without getting something in return? Certainly not two busy little kids desperate for money. As if sensing his resentment, Hisoka proceeded to offer a decent sum of money for their favor—enough, Killua realized, to suffice for a year's worth of sweets.

How Hisoka had gotten his hands on such a large accumulation of cash, Killua did not know and hadn't cared. It was the candy and cake that were sure to follow the money that had provoked him to agree. Yet, it was precisely because of his candy craze that he hadn't comprehended the last words Hisoka spoke to them before making his leave—that the nen remover's ability was stolen by his first and final client (1)—Kuroro Lucifer.

Killua was seriously beginning to regret his mind traveling off into Candyland. Gon must have heard, of course, but Killua didn't expect the simple-minded reinforcement user to worry much. He would simply take it as a good chance to help Kurapika with his vengeance carrying, or an opportunity to make his mark with their recent training.

Why Hisoka had chosen them to carry out his little charade, Killua could not even begin to imagine. Surely the devious, elusive clown had something up his sleeve, for why would he want two inexperienced little kids questioning Kuroro when he could have easily approached Kuroro with his numerous contacts? If it hadn't been for Gon, who always believed that a promise was a promise and they had to keep it, Killua would've outrightly betrayed Hisoka and left the clown to deal with his supposed nen "troubles" himself. After all, no rational person would want to pick a fight with the Genei Ryodan head over a hoard of petty money, minus Hisoka, who was pretty far from rational anyway.

"So how are we going to get our disguises?" Gon's voice. And he undoubtedly sounded worried.

"We…" Killua paused to think. A change of plans was needed. Dressing up as Hisoka and the nen remover would not do when they had little idea what the nen remover looked and acted like, minus the few comments Hisoka had made to them. Moreover, Killua was not ready to assume that Kuroro would be naïve enough not to notice the sudden change in demeanor that the psycho clown was about to possess. No, no, they were far better off doing something more inclined to trick.

"Maybe we ought to dress as someone he hasn't met before. He knows Hisoka better than us, and will probably find some glitch that we neglected to notice."

Killua looked at Gon in surprise. Their thoughts had coincided. Sure, it was true that the naïve Hunter did have some inventive streaks, but their situation was more about practical knowledge than out-of-the box innovation. Killua had not expected Gon to give any useful contributions on the practical side of life.

The clothing store they found themselves in was a broken down little shack, a secular island surrounded by grandeur and glamour. Killua had suggested they go there to. The inside of the store ran in sharp contrast to its outside—complete with brand name clothes, jewelry, perfume, and every other element of shopping a shopping crazed fiend could dream of. To a candy connoisseur, though, there was just one thing lacking—the candy sector.

* * *

Flip. Skim. 

The words of each page ran clearly through Kuroro's mind, but he was unable to concentrate. His mind had drifted to two suspicious looking men protruding from the crowd at the "new books" section. Both were walking with evident limps, as if they were wearing crutches hidden beneath their pants to support themselves. The two skill-lacking men seemed intent on changing their height circus-style. Kuroro mentally sorted them into the category of "pathetic fools," which had included the Mafia Godfathers and their prized possession Neon.

Flip. Skim. _The same thing would happen if you were to treat in the same way a Triangle, or Square, or any other figure cut out of pasteboard. _(2) Those two circus emulators sure were loud.

Flip. Skim. _As soon as you look at it with your eye on the edge on the table, you will find that it ceases to appear to you a figure, and that it becomes in appearance a straight line._(2) He deemed it unfortunate he was not in Flatland. Or else he wouldn't need to observe the two bothersome clownish men—they would both be two imperceptible straight lines gliding across the horizon.

Flip. Skim. Three pages closer to the end of Flatland. The taller wannabe-circus man had tripped(on his 'crutches'?) and collapsed on the stand that held the "new books," invoking the anger of the people congregating there. Kuroro sighed. Weren't bookstores supposed to connote 'peace'? And yet, here he was, listening to a group of rioters scream at two circus-aspirants. Connotations were definitely not trustworthy.

* * *

Alright. Done with the first chapter. 1692 words of actual content. So…what do you guys think? Please review; flames are welcome. And btw, why Hisoka had to ask Gon and Killua and how he got his nen sealed will be explained at some point; it's not just something I made up for the sake of the plot. I dislike writing Gon. It's so hard making him interact with Killua correctly. Oh, and the two men on "crutches". Their true identities ought to be pretty obvious, right? 

(1) I'm just assuming that he was the nen user's first client. It's for the sake of the flow of words.

(2) Taken from _Flatland_ by Edwin A. Abbot


End file.
